


Wake up

by Confundoed



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-08-23 13:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20243542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confundoed/pseuds/Confundoed
Summary: Andrew used to have to convince himself to get up every day. Every morning, there used to be a battle in his head where the ever dwindling sense of self-preservation fought every day to drag him out of bed and make him go through the motions for another day, another month, another year.---Ok this is basically my attempt at understanding Andrew the way Nora wrote him: emotionless, self-destructive and depressed.





	1. Before him

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, or anyone who decides to give me a chance. This is my first first fanfic ever and I'm not a native English speaker so I'd really appreciate any fidback or thoughts or comments you bother to leave.  
Enjoy crying :)

Andrew used to have to convince himself to get up every morning. Every morning, there used to be a battle in his head where the ever dwindling sense of self-preservation fought every day to drag him out of bed and make him go through the motions for another day, another month, another year. His self-destructive tendencies did not end at the scars on his forearms and his attempts to cling to life with Cassy; it peaked in the early morning light, when the alarm screamed itself hoarse right along the voices in his head. Some of the voices begged him to wake up. To try again and live this fucking life for one more day. But the ever-increasing majority of the voices that whispered to his aching wrists and bruises and cuts talked about the bliss of nothingness. They promised a final release from this mockery life. Only if he stayed in bed long enough.

Somehow, with some miraculous (or maybe disastrous) effort, he got up every morning the moment his alarm went off and even before that, sometimes he didn't even sleep, knowing the demons were always louder in the vulnerability of it. 

At first nothing changed when he found out about "the twin". Why would it? Andrew didn't care enough about him or his bitch of a mother, but when _he_ said _he_ would like to have him too, when _he_ explained that damned fantasy of his when _he_ was still in him, Andrew couldn't... he couldn't explain it. He didn't suddenly start caring about Aaron, no, it was just that no one deserved _him_. No one deserved to have his body pushed into his own mattress, his wrists pinned above his head, his legs rendered useless by the weight pushing him and pushing him and pushing him-

He let the pigs catch up to him. Went to juvie. For once after a long time, begged a man but it was allowed because it wasn't about him, it was about Aaron. The boy who didn't deserve any of it. The boy who already had bruises spread across his face when Andrew saw him again.

Tilda. Tilda. Tilda. Tilda. Tilda. The cause of the bruise. The abuser who hurt her own son. The pathetic excuse of a human being who abandoned her other son to the mercy of foster parents. The most recent reason Andrew had chosen to help wake him up, because he had already saved Aaron from _him_, leaving him in Tilda's not-so-gentle care was out of the question. For 5 months, planning Aaron's mother's death got him out of the bed and gave him the determination to cling to life for 5. More. Months. 

Aaron didn't believe him. Of course he didn't. Of course he took Tilda's side. Andrew didn't mind. He actually offered Aaron a deal. Aaron was to stick to Andrew until graduation and Andrew would protect him from anyone who would hurt him, including Aaron himself with his drug addiction. Andrew didn't lie, didn't break his promise, and so everyday he woke up with the deal quieting the voices and their dreamscape of nothingness. 

Neither brother knew why they repeated their promise, but it was becoming tedious for Andrew; there was no threat to Aaron but his own stupidity and emotions, nothing to keep his interest. The voices got louder. Their goal sweeter, more convincing, more appealing. 

And Kevin came. Or rather, Andrew climbed into the bus to find him unconscious, covered with his own blood, curled in the first row seat. Wymack shut everyone up, but his explanation wasn't enough. Not when Andrew had renewed his promise with his brother again and this broken raven screamed threat. 

It didn't take long for Andrew to determine the silence long enough and go to investigate the raven shaped problem himself. The lock gave out easily under his deft hands. Wymack did not. He just wasted both of their time really. Andrew was not going to let the bird stay anymore.

"Andrew you don't understand. You don't know... Look just- give him some time. He needs to recover first before this interrogation. Andrew! Andrew fucking Minyard! Don't you walk into that room." 

Wymack had a thing for broken things, Andrew didn't. The only ones Andrew cared about were the ones he promised to protect. "Coach you know me better than that. You know I don't stand this kind of unknown threat." 

"Can't you trust me when I say he's not a threat?" 

"Don't play dumb with me coach. They're gonna come for him. What're you gonna do then?" 

"I'm not going to hand him over to the Moriyamas if he doesn't want to go. The boy had to endure Riko for 20 years. If he doesn't want to he's not going back to those motherfucking bastards. Not if I can help it." 

Too many words. Wymack was nervous. He knew just as well as Andrew, and maybe better because he'd had the honor of speaking to their royal guest, that Riko Moriyama was not going to let his brother get away. Not if he could help it. 

Wymack knew it. He also knew it was a major threat and letting it happen was very, very against the twins' deal. Andrew regretted his choice to remain sober for this conversation. One of those manic laughs would perfectly portray Andrew's mind for the first time ever. Instead he opted for staring. Most people budged under the intensity of his gaze. Usually Wymack wasn't the kind but this time he knew Andrew was right. He gave in. 

"He's awake now. Just keep it civil and don't you dare hurt him. You understand that? Answer me you little midget." He didn't wait for Andrew's answer. 

"Minyard!" 

"Day." 

"What are you-? He said he wouldn't-" 

"Who broke your hand?" 

"I can't tell you that."

You'd think he has to sound courageous now, like a man defending his pride, but no, oh no. The coward's words shook, his hands trembled, his eyes darted to Abby - _Abby!_ \- for help. 

"Who broke your hand? You'll tell me the whole truth if you wish to stay here for one more hour." 

Andrew had started the conversation but it grew so boring with the coward's stutterings and yammerings and self-pity he mentally zoned out. The only interesting word that left the not-raven's mouth was deal. He wanted a deal. What Andrew needed (he claimed) in exchange for protection. 

"You're a paradox." 

"What do you mean? Please Andrew-" 

"Don't. Don't say that word to me. You say you'll give me "what I need" for your protection but what I need is you at least a hundred miles away from here. Do you see the problem?" 

"No. No that's not what you need. That's what you want." 

Interesting. Was that some spine he heard in the birdie's voice? 

"And what do I need O' Wise One?" 

"A reason to live." 

Andrew was regretting going without the drugs more because of the manic laughter necessary there than the sense of nausea reminding him of his withdrawal. 

"And you think you know what it is?" 

"Not yet but I'll figure it out. I've got 4 more years in college and I swear if you let me stay, if you protect me, I will find you a reason to live beyond college."

"Mighty words coming from a coward like you. Why did you think I'd believe you when you rehearsed them in your head?" 

"Because you know that everything else is insubstantial and that is the most important thing that you need and I've seen you I've seen you in court and I know you need this enough to give me a chance even though I can't guarantee that I can deliver." 

Smart, birdie. Smarter than Andrew gave him credit for. Smarter than Andrew prepared himself for. 

He talked with Renee to ensure the others' safety. Kevin would need them if he was to stay, if he was to give Andrew a proverbial pillow to suffocate the voices in his head. Andrew's smirk was cold. They didn't have a chance. 

Aaron was sneaking behind his back to be with his whore, Kevin doubted his promise to protect him and still had panic attacks and drank himself stupid 5 days in a week. Getting up was getting harder, the sleepless nights more frequent, his shark smile ever wider. He should've known the universe hated stability in his life. (so did he.) He should've expected the rabbit was more, much more than he seemed. 


	2. With him

He should've expected the rabbit was more, much more than he seemed. Neil Josten. The boy with nothing but his life to lose and nothing but death to gain. 

At first he was just a mere curiosity, just one (rare) intriguing thing for Andrew to play with. And play Andrew did, but the boy was as unpredictable as he was pretty. Andrew took him to Columbia to get answers, Neil ran out of the second-floor bathroom window and hitchhiked his way across the country. Still, Andrew got his answers in the end, but it wasn't the answers that kept his interest; oh no, it was the bone-deep jealousy in the rabbit's voice that made Andrew look at Neil when he wasn't looking. Andrew decided he was just a rabbit, jealousy and longing tinting his gaze, but still a rabbit, then Neil went and insulted the self-appointed King of Exy on national TV and made Andrew reassess him all over again. Was that boy even for real? 

Andrew decided to give him a deal, figured Neil had already become a reason to wake up for Andrew, a gleaming beacon of secrets and fears and blue eyes to drag him out of bed every day just to try to solve the mystery of Neil's existence. However, Neil wasn't the cowering Kevin or ignorant Aaron, somehow he figured out how to navigate around Andrew, how to ask things Andrew would never give to anyone else, and he still had the balls to look oblivious about it. 

Seriously, that boy had learned only half of the art of observation his life depended on. He catalogued every exit door and stairway and noticed when Wymack was trying and failing to control his temper, but he never saw the power he had over the team, when someone was flirting with him or when someone cared about him. Andrew was screwed.

He knew this was going to happen. That was all Andrew could think about when his mind tried to find out who was laughing, who dared to laugh, who was he laughing at? Was he laughing at Andrew? The boy who couldn't protect himself and yet gave out promises like candies at Halloween? Was he laughing at _him_? _His_ face half caved in, drowning in a pool of _his_ own blood, frozen in an expression too awful that everyone ignored? Was he laughing at Aaron? The boy who killed for his mother's killer, who had eyes only for Andrew now even though he always avoided him like the plague? Was he laughing at Nicky? At the horror and surprise and regret and shame and sorrow and anger and anger and anger on his kind face? Was he laughing at the cowering Kevin who was nowhere in sight? Was he laughing at Luther who dared to look surprised and not even a bit guilty? Or was he laughing at Neil, the boy with such perfect understanding in his eyes, the boy for Andrew to blame everything on?

In the next few months he forgot every reason he ever gave himself to wake up, every promise, every deal, every word, all forgotten. Of course none of those could hold up when _he_ knew every one of Andrew's triggers. However, the moment he saw the rabbit again, all cut up and bloody and broken, everything came rushing back to Andrew. He said Andrew hadn't broken his promise but the scars said otherwise; he said he hadn't broken his own promise but that damned tattoo on his face said otherwise. Andrew told him he was a side effect of the drugs, a mere pipe dream, but his lips said otherwise. Lucky they both knew how to read the words behind each other's eyes. 

Andrew let himself believe. He let himself hope. He let himself feel. He should've known better. He shouldn't have attracted the eye of the universe. He shouldn't have dared to want and shout his wants in his dream until the stars got annoyed and decided to deal with him. Andrew shouldn't have been surprised when he turned back and didn't see the blue-eyed boy behind him. He shouldn't have been angry when the coward told him that the broken boy had lied, that he wasn't who he showed himself to be. He shouldn't have been worried, for the boy was no longer to be.

And how the universe liked to play with his sentient toys. Andrew wondered, were the stars amused at his reaction to Neil's "sorry"s? Was the moon laughing at Neil's hands cupping Andrew's face, blocking his view, leashing his anger in? Did the gods sing with Neil's broken "Neil Abram Josten" in the car? That night, lying down beside Neil on the pile of blankets, unable to sleep because of all the loud bears surrounding them, Andrew couldn't help but think about what Neil once said; was the world itself cruel, or was it just the people in it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I'm terrible at writing and you probably won't understand half the things in this chapter and did NOT ask for this but hey! Life's too short to care about what people think right? I'm rambling here and I'm sorry but I would definitely appreciate kudos and comments <3


	3. Still with him

Andrew had a reason to wake up. Every day, he opened his eyes to see whether the runner was still there or not. Andrew expected him not to be. Every day, after every round of nightmares Andrew expected to wake up to an empty bed. Maybe the bed would still be warm, maybe the bed was no longer big enough to accommodate two people, maybe he'd wake up to a dormitory-issued bed and find out it was all in his head, a dream that couldn't exactly be called a nightmare. However, every day Andrew woke up to the sight of disheveled red hair instead of the white pillow and every day, Andrew couldn't stop being grateful for it.

Andrew's version of gratefulness was not the usual picture. It wasn't loudly stated. It wasn't even named in Andrew's own head. It was just a feeling, an urge, to cross the distance between them, either with his hands or lips or thoughts. An urge to touch Neil and wake him up and treat himself with the sight of Neil's sleepy, dazed, blue gaze. It was the additional cup of coffee he made. It was the space on the couch that he spared. It was the second cigarette he lit far from the pests that he refused to call by their given name. And somehow, Neil made it clear that it was okay.

Maybe that was why Neil had become permanent. Because he didn't demand change. Because he never pushed beyond what was okay. Because he made Andrew feel known, without any awkwardness.

Andrew sometimes wondered how he didn't tire of the redhead . How he never seemed to be able to stay too long in his dark days and always, always strayed back to Neil and his patience. He sometimes wondered how the former rabbit had managed to secure his interest in early days and not lose it even when there was no truth left to trade.

"Drew?"

"Yes."

"Nevermind."

Silence.

"Josten."

"Forget it. It was sappy."

Raised eyebrows was the only reaction he allowed himself.

"Do you sometimes... like..."

"Use your words."

"I don't... I mean... is it sometimes hard to believe for you too?" He was clearly flustered, maybe a little embarrassed. He kept running his hands through his hair.

"Josten, no psychics here."

Silence for a while again. Andrew let him take his time and gather his words.

"I spent a long time on the run. Even when i decided to stay, i thought it was going to be until the next March. And i just... Sometimes, it's hard to believe that I'm actually here. What did you call it back then? That I'm not a pipe dream and it's not a mirage."

Through years of college, Andrew had noticed that people start showing very similar behaviors after years of lurking around each other and even develop the same thought process because they have the same mental background and references. Now he had to wonder, how many of the thoughts Andrew had had during the years were reflected in Neil's mind as well?

"Do you really have that bad of an imagination for this to be the best case scenario in your shitty head." It wasn't a question. Just Andrew's version of reassurance.

"What more would I ever want?"

And he knew that answering it with "A sane partner, a salary you could completely enjoy and better, less crazy cats," was futile. Neil was nothing if not stubborn. And god help anyone who wanted to dissuade him once he was committed. Andrew's self-destructive tendencies had to be on a whole new level to even try to make this imperfectly perfect person run away. Both because Neil would most probably go on a three-hour-long rant and because Andrew didn't know what he would do if Neil didn't. 

"Andrew." 

"What this time?" 

"It's just... You know that I'm...content here. I've been happy and safe and everything I never thought I'd be and... I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you. Thank you for making this possible. Thank you for making me a fox that day. 

"I still remember it you know. The day I stopped being the rabbit. The day i started to live." 

His voice drifted off. He was drawing -tracing- something on his palm. After closer inspection, Andrew saw that it was a key, most likely the Columbia house's key. Something was wedged in Andrew's throat. Closing the airway. No, it was in his brain. Closing the highway crowded with thoughts there (Every one of the thoughts had Andrew's terrible driving skills.) And if Andrew ever believed himself capable of having a heart, he would have sworn there was something wedged there too, making it skip a beat, or maybe two. 

"I'm the one with the perfect recall." 

"I'm good with important information," Neil said, grinning like he'd just won the argument (was there one in the first place?). Andrew thought, maybe, it wasn't the long exposure to his presence, maybe the rabbit had picked up another weird trait. Would it be telepathy or was it just a minor case of empathy? Maybe that was why he brought up the conversation in the first place. Or further back, maybe that was how he'd managed to keep Andrew's interest. Or even further back, maybe the telepathy was why he wouldn't breach Andrew's lines in his first year. 

But no, if the idiot were telepathic he had to have known about Andrew's attraction way before the actual disaster, then he'd have been forced to lie about it and Neil couldn't lie to Andrew for shit. 

Andrew regarded him. The not-rabbit. The not-so-pipe-dream. The former runaway. Former Fox of the Palmetto State. All because he'd decided to-

"Thank you for staying, Josten." 

<strike>Who cares if that was the hardest sentence to say?</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unpopular idea of the decade:  
I think Nora is right and neither Andrew nor Neil will ever say "I love you" to the other because anyone who said he or she loved them in their childhood hurt and abused them. Also they're never getting married because the it's always yes, "until it's a no".   
Ps. Do you think i should impose more of my horrible writing on this poor world or else?


End file.
